Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

“Don’t, Hase me to get out of this—Herr Wagner, der große böse Wolf,” I fire back at him.

Your move Mr. Wagner, the ‘Big Bad Wolf’.

“I’m not trying to get out of anything, Cosmatos.” He does a complete one-eighty, calling me by my birth name.

“It wasn’t my intention to deny Daphne today, especially in her time of need. There was a miscommunication, that is all,” he attempts to dismiss me, but I’m like a dog with a bone.

“You say it wasn’t your intention to deny her today, sure. We both know how important that meeting was for you—financially,” I challenge him.

Magnus rolls his eyes, arranging a large handful of fresh arugula down the length of the sandwich.

“But what about tomorrow, hmm?” I press, Sol appearing at my side with a black cherry soda—still frosty from the icebox.

“What about tomorrow?” Magnus drones, sprinkling expensive olive oil and aged balsamic vinegar over the greens.

“Are you planning on leaving Tern’s Nest to go to The Studio?” I take the soda and slug down a mouthful of its icy fizz.

Now Magnus looks up from his sandwich artistry to look me in the eyes.

“You are planning on leaving our omega tomorrow to go meet with Ed, aren’t you—you bastard!?”

“She isn’t even our omega yet, Cosmo. Don’t lose sight of everything you’ve worked for—everything we have worked for.

“What in the world is wrong with you two!? Keep your voices down!” Julian’s whisper is harsh and snakelike but still quieter than Magnus and I squabbling in the kitchen.

I steamroll Julian’s attempt at peacemaking, pushing right past him in his silk robe.

“The only reason she’s not our omega yet—is because someone rallied the rest of the pack behind his banner of ‘no bonding until after Daphne’s first heat’!” I argue.

“Cosmo ain’t wrong there,” Sol growls low in ascent.

“We all agreed,” Magnus begins to remind us—when I have a sudden realization, “You haven’t knotted her yet because you’re afraid you’re gonna go back on your own word,” I muse aloud—my epiphany slipping past my own lips without me realizing.

“For all you will say about control, about discipline—you know that even your iron fuckin’ will as packmaster might not be enough to keep you from biting her once your knot is inside our omega,” I growl.

There’s a flicker in the gold flecks in Magnus’ keen maroon eyes. I know I’ve struck a nerve. He holds my gaze too intense, too long—Sol sees it too and lets out a low whistle.

“Nailed it,” Sol snorts under his breath.

Magnus shakes his head in disapproval.

“Both of you have been compromised in terms of your ability to think clearly—you’re all knots, no thoughts right now. Not a single brain cell between you that isn’t working in service of your goddamn cocks,” Magnus scoffs.

“Bond or no bond—Daphne is already as good as pack. You’re just using her as an excuse,” I snipe.

“Cosmo,” Magnus turns those intense maroon eyes on me with their golden sparks, turning my own name into a warning.

“You’re a real self-centered prick, you know that Magnus?” I seethe.

“You’re one to talk,” he sneers at me, his high cheekbones like knives as he turns his profile to me.

“Me? I’m the self-centered one?” I scoff, completely baffled by his seemingly genuine accusation.

“Keep your voices down! Daphne is beyond exhausted and needs her sleep. If she wakes up she’s going to need us. Can’t this argument be put on hold for the sake of Daphne—,” Julian whisper-hisses, turning to look Magnus directly in the eye when he says, “regardless of if we’ve bonded her or not yet, she is in the throes of her first heat. We’re the ones helping her through it—and I don’t know about all of you, but I intend for this to be the first of many heats we help Daphne through.”

Sol backs Julian up with a nod and the crossing of his arms across his broad chest.

Magnus makes no sound. His perfect lips only make the shapes of the words, mea culpa.